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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429083">something beautiful, something ours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>and I love to listen to the stars at night [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, M/M, Supernatural Elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:42:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you know the best way to build a LEGO set, ge?” the boy asked. </p><p>Xiao Zhan sat down slowly, uncaring that the seat of his jeans would be ruined. He felt like he was beginning to understand, even if he couldn’t yet see the whole picture. </p><p>“No,” he said. </p><p>.</p><p>Before Xiao Zhan became an international phenomenon, he was a full-time designer, part-time guide for a lost boy.<br/>(Or: where a boy once turns up in the middle of a city in full racing gear, Xiao Zhan has plenty of questions, and they put the pieces of their world together.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>and I love to listen to the stars at night [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>something beautiful, something ours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Xiao Zhan first met the boy in the middle of spring, in that transitional moment when the days were warm and still tinged with a crisp touch, the air tasting of new beginnings. </p><p>In this city thrumming with the energy of millions of people, he would not have noticed the boy if it weren’t for an admittedly superficial reason: the boy was very handsome. Less superficially: the boy was the one still figure on the thoroughfare. A skateboard under one arm, he was staring at a city map board. The flow of human traffic parted around him like a river around a rock. </p><p>Xiao Zhan stopped walking. He bit his lip and looked at his watch: eight-oh-five. If he continued on his way to the office, he would have time for a quick bite before work. </p><p>But surely, if he sprinted later, he would have time to help the boy now. </p><p>Skipping breakfast might help him lose weight too... </p><p>Xiao Zhan walked down the road, bypassing his usual right turn. </p><p>Up close, the boy was even more good-looking. He looked away from the board when Xiao Zhan stopped in front of him. His eyes, a brown so deep it was almost black, were startlingly clear. </p><p>It took a few seconds for Xiao Zhan to ask, “Ah...are you lost?” </p><p>The boy did not reply. He continued looking at Xiao Zhan, steady gaze pinning him to the spot. For the first time, Xiao Zhan found himself unable to read another person’s expression. </p><p>“It’s just, you...you’ve been staring at the map for a while. Where do you want to go?” He looked a little more carefully at the boy, taking in the baseball cap he was wearing reversed, the sporty T-shirt and shorts, the shoes with flat soles. “Ah. Are you looking for the skateboarding park?” </p><p>The boy blinked. After a long moment, he said, “Yes. I think so.” </p><p>His voice had a sweet, uncertain cadence to it, at odds with his expression. Xiao Zhan’s smile came a little easier. “You ‘think so’?” he teased. “You weren’t aware of what you were looking for?” </p><p>The boy shrugged. He toyed with the skateboard under his arm and shifted his weight, one foot to the other. Xiao Zhan felt suddenly like a bully. </p><p>“Okay, look, you just need to take a left at the crossroad after this, and keep walking until you see a KFC. Then turn right and—” Xiao Zhan faltered. The boy was staring at him with eyes bright and lost. “How about I bring you there?” he suggested.</p><p>The boy nodded and said, “Please.” </p><p>The boy did not say a word the entire walk there, gaze straight ahead like the city sights were of no interest to him. Xiao Zhan thought of and discarded small talk topics one after another. He had the feeling the boy wouldn’t respond to any of them. The boy didn’t seem bored either, just focused. Calm. Unruffled by the noise and bustle around them. Even when the skateboarding park came within sight, he did not show any particular change in expression, a quiet counterpoint to the sound of wheels on concrete. </p><p>The silence stretched. “Well,” Xiao Zhan said. He paused. “This is it.” He began wondering if he should extol the virtues of the park.</p><p>The boy scanned the area, lingering on a teenager playing with his own skateboard in the corner. The kid stumbled while trying to do a trick, but none of the skateboarders in the park saw or heard or noticed. He looked around the park, a thin, lonesome figure. </p><p>The boy said, “He’s trying to do an Ollie.” </p><p>“...mm?” </p><p>“Like this.” </p><p>The boy put his skateboard on the ground, skated a short distance away, and leapt into the air with the board. For a perfect instant he was suspended in motion, boy and skateboard framed against the blue sky, the white clouds. </p><p>He landed with the clack of wheels on ground, a little wobbly. He turned and skated back, looking at Xiao Zhan. </p><p>Xiao Zhan drew in a breath. “Wow,” he said. He gave the boy a thumbs up. </p><p>The boy said, matter-of-fact, “I haven’t perfected it.” </p><p>“You will soon,” Xiao Zhan reassured. He hoped the boy could hear he meant it, that it was more than a polite nicety. </p><p>“Thank you, ge,” he said. After a short pause, he added, “For showing the way.” The boy smiled a little, warmth in his eyes.</p><p>“Oh.” Xiao Zhan stared. It took a while before he remembered to add, “It was no trouble.” </p><p>The boy made a little bow, perfect posture. He skated off into the park, headed for the teenager. </p><p>Later, Xiao Zhan could not say what possessed him to stay for that extra minute or two or five, making him arrive only in the nick of time for his meeting. He could not explain, either, the burst of energy that pushed him through the day until he could get home to his easel, dinner and a shower and rest forgotten. </p><p>When he was done it was dark outside, the air cold. His hands were splattered with paint. His back ached. Warmth bloomed in his chest, like a cat purring within a mound of blankets. On his canvas there was a boy leading a kid just a bit younger than him through an Ollie, a hint of a smile on his face, bathed in the light of the morning sky. </p><p>.</p><p>The next time Xiao Zhan saw the boy, it was early summer. The evening was sticky-warm, a hint of the relentlessly hot months to come. Xiao Zhan had just closed a two hundred thousand yuan project and he couldn’t place that feeling in him. There was satisfaction. There was a strange restlessness. There was an unnameable yearning. His colleagues invited him out for drinks; they accepted his apologetic smile with good grace. </p><p>It was as he wandered the streets of the city, aimless, looking at the sights without seeing anything, that he saw the boy again. If the first time Xiao Zhan stopped because of the boy’s good looks, this time it was the sheer oddity of what the boy was wearing. </p><p>He must be a racer; nobody would wear a leather racing suit in this heat otherwise. The helmet he held in one hand cemented it. The boy looked like a moment cut out of the space-time continuum. Standing there, incredibly good-looking, bizarrely dressed, the boy was gazing straight ahead with the posture of a prince. Around him the city had blurred into an impressionistic painting. </p><p>He turned and caught Xiao Zhan’s gaze. </p><p>Xiao Zhan did not—<em>could not</em>—look away. </p><p>It was only when somebody bumped into him that Xiao Zhan was jolted into motion. A few steps, almost a jog, and he was standing in front of the boy. </p><p>“Hi,” Xiao Zhan said, feeling breathless. He couldn’t help the smile. </p><p>“Hey,” the boy said. He was still gazing at Xiao Zhan, the edge of his lips quirked into the faintest smile. The silence stretched, not entirely uncomfortable. Xiao Zhan thought he would have to be the one to speak first, but the boy said, “I think I’m lost, ge.” </p><p>“Again?” Xiao Zhan huffed out a little laugh. “You don’t live around here, huh?” </p><p>“I don’t,” the boy agreed. He thought for a while and added, “I think.” </p><p>“How can you not know where you live?” Xiao Zhan asked, partly to tease, partly out of genuine curiosity. </p><p>“I just found myself here,” the boy said, smiling too. </p><p>“In this outfit?” </p><p>The boy looked down at himself. He shrugged. “Yeah.” </p><p>“So you’re here for a race then?” </p><p>“Oh. Is there a racetrack nearby?” </p><p>The space of several heartbeats passed in silence. Xiao Zhan tried to process the facts: the boy looked ready for a race; he did not know where the racetrack was. The two did not, apparently, contradict.</p><p>He said, “It’s not that far...but it might be easier if we take a taxi there.” </p><p>“Hmm. I don’t have money,” the boy said. </p><p>Xiao Zhan’s mouth dropped open. He was happy to pay for the taxi ride—he would have insisted on paying for it anyway—but for the boy to not carry any money at all? </p><p>“You don’t have a phone with you?” he checked. </p><p>“I don’t,” the boy agreed. </p><p>“How do you—” Xiao Zhan gestured vaguely, hoping it encompassed what he meant. How did the boy eat? Go around the city? It was rude; nobody outright asked about other people’s finances. Xiao Zhan would slap himself if the situation weren’t so bizarre. </p><p>The boy grinned at Xiao Zhan’s gesturing. “It’s okay. I can walk there.” </p><p>“That’s not—that’s not the point and you know it,” Xiao Zhan said. He sighed. “You know what? Let’s get a taxi first, we can talk on the way there.” </p><p>“Okay. Thank you, ge.” </p><p>It was the matter of seconds to book a taxi to pick them up from where they were. The driver nodded at Xiao Zhan, completely ignoring the boy. Xiao Zhan was torn between annoyance and grudging understanding. Maybe the driver decided it would have been ruder if he had blatantly gaped at the boy’s outfit. </p><p>“Why’re you off to the racetrack, young man?” </p><p>Xiao Zhan thought the boy would answer, but he was silent, looking out the window. Xiao Zhan coughed. “Ah, well...a whim.” </p><p>“You don’t look like the racing type. No offense!” </p><p>Xiao Zhan was the furthest from being the racing type, but he could take offense on the boy’s part, who looked every bit like a racer. “Can’t judge a book by its cover,” he said pleasantly. </p><p>“Right, right,” the driver agreed. He hummed. “No race today though.” </p><p>“...yes, none today,” Xiao Zhan said. He glanced to the side where the boy wasn’t making any attempt to participate in the conversation. </p><p>“Guess you could get in some practice if the track is free.” </p><p>“Yes. Maybe,” he said. </p><p>The rest of the drive was quiet. Every time Xiao Zhan thought of asking the boy for answers, he would see the boy staring out the window with quiet intensity, and the words would die on his tongue. The boy looked especially pale under the light of the streetlamps.</p><p>Xiao Zhan thanked the driver when they alighted, the boy giving a little bob of his head. The driver still made eye contact only with Xiao Zhan when he waved off their thanks. Xiao Zhan reminded himself to maybe rate the driver just a little lower than his usual reviews, even if the boy didn’t seem to care. </p><p>Above them the lights of the circuit were dazzling, white-hot bright. It added a hazy layer to the sticky air. “Are you going to practise then?” Xiao Zhan asked. </p><p>“Maybe,” the boy said. He looked at the race track. “Ge, do you know Valentino Rossi?” </p><p>Xiao Zhan shook his head. </p><p>“He’s the greatest racer in the world. He won nine Grand Prix Championships, and he’s still racing. Every racer knows he’s the one to beat. He’s fifty, you know,” the boy said. There was a spark in his eyes, what sounded like fervour in his voice. “Isn’t he amazing?” </p><p>Xiao Zhan wouldn’t know, but he smiled at the boy’s expression. “That does sound cool. You want to be like him?” </p><p>“I would like that, yeah.” </p><p>There was a faint roar in the distance, more and more audible as a racer approached the finish line. They watched as he slowed and stopped. From the spectator stand Xiao Zhan couldn’t see any distinct features, other than that the racer was dressed much like the boy was. He looked very small without the sound of the engines to amplify his presence. </p><p>Xiao Zhan turned to see the boy looking at the man with a contemplative expression. “Thank you,” the boy said. He smiled. “For showing the way again.” </p><p>“You—” Xiao Zhan shook his head—“there’s no need to thank me for that.”</p><p>“There is,” the boy insisted. He met Xiao Zhan’s eyes, his gaze suffocating in its intensity. “I would still have been lost if it weren’t for you.” </p><p>It was so warm, this night—even his ears felt warm. “Well, considering you don’t have a phone with you, that’s true,” he said lightly. “Remember to bring it with you next time.” </p><p>“Maybe,” the boy said. He looked away; Xiao Zhan felt like he could breathe again. </p><p>“...you’re going to practise now?” </p><p>“I’m going to talk to him.” The boy gestured at the lone racer who was looking at his timing. The curve of the man’s neck spelt despondency. “You should go home, it’s late,” the boy said. </p><p>“What about you? How’re you gonna get home if you don’t have money or a phone?” </p><p>“I’ll figure it out. I can walk,” the boy said. He sounded distant, like his mind was already on his conversation with the racer. </p><p>Xiao Zhan frowned. He dug into his bag and pulled out the cash his mother always told him to carry with him just in case, even if they used their phones for all transactions. “Take this,” he said. </p><p>The boy blinked. His eyes focused again. “There’s no need—” </p><p>“I insist,” Xiao Zhan said. Without another thought, he grabbed the boy’s hand and pushed the cash into his palm. The boy’s hand was cool to the touch, shockingly so. It was large, but there was a frailty to it Xiao Zhan didn’t like. </p><p>The boy looked from the notes in his hand to Xiao Zhan, then back again. His lips parted—instead of words, there was a series of hiccupping-like sounds that Xiao Zhan belatedly realised was the boy’s laughter. It sounded disused. </p><p>“Hey! Stop laughing, aish,” Xiao Zhan complained. He was smiling so wide his cheeks ached. “Are you even human, huh?” </p><p>The boy snickered a couple more times. “Thanks, ge. Really. But I don’t need it.” </p><p>“Then take it for my peace of mind, so I know you can get home safe,” Xiao Zhan said. </p><p>“Hmm. Okay, then.” The boy folded the notes carefully and slipped them under the neck of his suit. There was a gentle finality in his voice when he said, “Go home, ge. Get some rest.” </p><p>“...don’t stay too late, even if you want to become like Valentino Rossi.” </p><p>The boy flashed a smile at him. He walked down the steps. </p><p>From where he was, Xiao Zhan couldn’t hear what they talked about. He could only see them talking, one aspiring racer to another. The despondency in the man’s body changed by degrees into something like anticipation. Xiao Zhan didn’t know a single thing about racing, but when the boy went into the holding area and came out on a motorcycle to join the man, he could feel his heartbeat quicken. </p><p>The roar of the engines was deafening. The boy and man nodded at each other. Without a cue, following an invisible timer, they shot off down the track. If the engines weren’t so loud, Xiao Zhan imagined he might be able to hear the boy laugh, hiccuppy and hoarse. </p><p>Xiao Zhan watched until they disappeared from sight. He listened until the roars faded away, the track so much larger than what he could glimpse from the stands. And he waited. </p><p>But they didn’t appear again, only the white-hot lights blotting out the night sky when Xiao Zhan finally left, convinced he must have missed their return. </p><p>.</p><p>In the height of summer, his university teacher sent him a message asking how he was. It came with a link to a talent-scouting programme and a call for applications. His singing has always been beautiful, she reminisced. </p><p>He thanked her for her concern and asked how she was in turn. She replied with a reminder that he could always talk to her if he ever needed advice. Xiao Zhan promised he would.</p><p>He opened the link. He read through the details. He closed it. </p><p>He went back to his work, feeling off-center. It was an unproductive sort of morning, the type where technically things got done, but at the end of it he felt like he had achieved nothing at all. His mind was buzzing, twisting itself into knots. </p><p>He ended up taking a half day leave. His colleague said, “The workaholic finally takes leave? The sky’s gonna fall today then.” </p><p>Xiao Zhan shook his fist at him. They both laughed. </p><p>“Go rest, Zhanzhan. You’ve been out of sorts since the morning,” he said kindly. </p><p>“Was it that obvious?” </p><p>“We’ve worked with you long enough to know.” </p><p>Xiao Zhan conceded the point, promised to buy lunch the next day, and left. </p><p>The downside to leaving in the afternoon was the brutal heat. In the one step from building to street Xiao Zhan was covered in a layer of sweat. He opened his umbrella and took the small streets at a brisk walk until he reached the thoroughfare. Across the road, a group of girls laughed as they ate ice cream. A child was screaming somewhere behind him, begging for a toy. There wasn’t a single wisp of cloud in the stark blue sky. </p><p>Xiao Zhan breathed in the scent of the city. He picked a direction away from home, away from work, and he began walking. He knew the city enough to not get lost in its network of streets and alleys. With each step, each frowning or smiling or blank face he passed, each wave of hot wind, his mind blanked out little by little until he could stop, breathe, take stock. </p><p>It was here, in a street of boutiques and specialty shops, that he saw the boy again. </p><p>A jolt of pleased surprise ran through him. The boy was dressed casually today, even more so than the first time they met: a baggy T-shirt and shorts that looked more like what he would wear at home than to go out. He was looking through the window of the LEGO store. From far he looked expressionless, but Xiao Zhan thought he could see a hint of childish glee in his eyes. </p><p>Xiao Zhan held the umbrella over the boy. The boy looked up at him and grinned, unsurprised. </p><p>“Hey, ge.” </p><p>“Hi,” Xiao Zhan said. His smile must look pretty stupid. He looked at the store teeming with kids on their summer break then back to the boy. “Let me guess: you’re not lost today?” </p><p>The boy hummed. “I think so.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan laughed. “Well, that’s a relief! So why aren’t you going in?” </p><p>“I just found myself here,” the boy said. He looked at Xiao Zhan like he might have an answer, but Xiao Zhan had no clue what to say to that. “Maybe I’m supposed to buy something from the store.” </p><p>“‘Supposed to’? As in...you’re on an errand to buy a gift?” </p><p>“Maybe,” the boy said. He pointed at the display window where there was a massive LEGO replica of a historical town, famously used in all period dramas produced in this country. “That one is limited edition. There were one thousand eight hundred and twenty three sets produced. They were snapped up within three seconds. On the resale market it’s about eight times the original price.” The boy sighed, wistful and admiring. </p><p>“Is that what you want to buy?” Xiao Zhan asked. He had the sudden wild thought that if the boy only wished it, he would move mountains to get a set for him. </p><p>“No. I should get something simpler. Maybe a car or a cat.” </p><p>“What are we waiting for then?” </p><p>A blast of cold air greeted them when they entered the store. The noise of teenagers and children with their parents was less pleasant. The boy navigated the store with ease; there must be some sort of aura about him for people to unconsciously part ways. As they walked through an aisle some girls looked their way. Xiao Zhan shifted to hide the boy from view. </p><p>Xiao Zhan hadn’t imagined there would be an entire shelf of car models, arranged according to car brand and colour. Neither had he imagined there would be three shelves of animal sets. The boy scrutinised them and asked Xiao Zhan, “What do children usually like?” </p><p>“Ah...girl or boy?” </p><p>“Does that matter?” the boy asked. </p><p>“...perhaps not,” Xiao Zhan said, slightly abashed. “Okay, what’re their interests then?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” the boy said. </p><p>“Wait wait wait. Aren’t you getting a gift for someone you know?” </p><p>“I don’t know them,” the boy said. He picked up a lion set and studied it. </p><p>“So it’s for a friend’s child?” </p><p>“No,” the boy said. </p><p>The conversation was going in circles. Xiao Zhan wanted to drag the boy to a cafe, sit him down, and make him explain. </p><p>“Something cool,” the boy decided. He smiled at Xiao Zhan, clueless about Xiao Zhan’s utter and complete confusion. “Children like to be cool, right?” </p><p>“I don’t know if they have a concept of cool, but then again, it’s been a long time since I was a kid. You’re closer in age to them,” Xiao Zhan teased. </p><p>“You’re not that old,” the boy said earnestly. </p><p>“I’m a ’91 baby.” </p><p>The boy nodded. “Not that old.” </p><p>Xiao Zhan huffed a laugh. “Okay, if you say so.” When the boy made no indication that he was going to respond, he continued, “That was an invitation to tell me your age, by the way.” </p><p>“How old do you think I am?” the boy asked. He picked up a tiger set and held both sets up for Xiao Zhan’s inspection. </p><p>“How would I know?” Xiao Zhan said. He looked at both sets, suitable for children aged six to twelve, and tapped the lion set. It was probably the cooler of the two. More importantly, the boy had been instantly taken with it. “’95, maybe?” </p><p>“No, not quite,” the boy said. His brows were furrowed. “Close, I think.” </p><p>“You think? How could you not know your own age?” </p><p>The boy looked suddenly, terribly stricken. He stared at the lion set and whispered, “I don’t know. It’s been a long time.” </p><p>A knife straight to his chest wouldn’t hurt as much. Xiao Zhan gripped the boy’s upper arm. Even through the sleeve his skin was cool. </p><p>“’97,” he said quietly when the boy looked at him with vacant eyes. “My guess is you’re ’97.” </p><p>Slowly, the boy’s eyes cleared. He thought for a while. “That’s right. I think you’re right, ge.” </p><p>Xiao Zhan smiled. “See? Still a kid. A ’97 kid.” </p><p>“Huh. Maybe you really are old then,” the boy said with a grin. </p><p>Xiao Zhan swatted his shoulder. “Shut up. Are you getting that or not?” When the boy didn’t make a move to the cashier, Xiao Zhan said, disbelievingly, “You didn’t bring your phone or any cash with you again?” </p><p>“I told you, I just found myself here,” the boy said with a patient air. </p><p>“Like, aliens abducted and dropped you here?” </p><p>“Oh, maybe.” The boy shuddered. “That’s a little scary, ge.” </p><p>“I don’t know what other reasonable explanation there could be,” Xiao Zhan snarked. He sighed and said, softer, “I’ll pay for it, c’mon.” </p><p>“Really?” the boy said. </p><p>“You owe me a meal,” Xiao Zhan said. <em> And an explanation</em>, he didn’t say. </p><p>“Okay. What do you like to eat, ge?” </p><p>“Oh, loads. I’ll eat you out of house and home. Sushi, ramen, hotpot, Starbucks…” </p><p>“All at once?” The boy said seriously. </p><p>“It’ll be an installment plan, one treat at a time.” </p><p>The cashier gift-wrapped the set and handed it to Xiao Zhan. It was a relief to be out of the packed store, though the sun was still scorching. Xiao Zhan held the bag in one hand and the umbrella over them in another. </p><p>“Where to?” </p><p>The boy pointed at an alley entrance across the road. Xiao Zhan looked at him askance. </p><p>“I can go by myself from here, ge,” the boy said. </p><p>“No. You have no money to get home by yourself. And before you ask—I’m not gonna lend you any this time,” Xiao Zhan said. He began crossing the road before the boy could protest. The boy hurried to keep up with him. </p><p>“Stingy,” he complained, though he didn’t look unhappy. </p><p>“Absolutely. I’m the stingiest, didn’t you know? I have the God of Fortune as my wallpaper.” </p><p>“That’s so tacky, ge. You should have a pic of something cooler,” the boy suggested. </p><p>In unison, they swerved around a group of people queuing for bubble tea. “Like what?” Xiao Zhan asked. </p><p>“Like me,” the boy said. He let out a series of hiccuppy laughs, stupidly endearing. </p><p>Xiao Zhan laughed too. “You’re so full of yourself!” </p><p>The boy swatted his hand, just like how Xiao Zhan had swatted his shoulder in the shop. It landed like a shock of cool water. Xiao Zhan bared his teeth, earning another grin from the boy. </p><p>But at the entrance to the alley, the boy stopped moving and it was like a switch had been flicked, change so whip-lash fast Xiao Zhan wouldn’t have caught it had he blinked. He was quiet again, gaze distant. Xiao Zhan followed his gaze and sucked in a breath. </p><p>Alleys weren’t exactly the cleanest place, but worse still was the child with a bruised face and dirty clothes, crouched against the wall. From the child’s angle, the LEGO store could just be glimpsed. </p><p>The boy took the bag from him. “You should go, ge,” he said. </p><p>“This—” Heartache washed over him. “You were getting a gift for this child?” </p><p>The boy looked at him. Xiao Zhan stared back, heart pounding at the sudden, fathomless depth in those eyes. </p><p>“You’re not leaving?” the boy asked. </p><p>Xiao Zhan couldn’t answer. </p><p>Without another word, the boy crouched in front of the child. She looked up very slowly, quiet and defeated. Her hair was matted, fringe covering her eyes.</p><p>“Do you want to build a lion with me?” he asked. </p><p>“Hey,” Xiao Zhan finally whispered. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “She needs...she needs food first. And a bath. And we need to call the police and find her parents—” </p><p>“It’s too late for that, ge,” the boy said conversationally. </p><p>He held out the bag to the child, but she didn’t take it. Not minding her response— or lack thereof—the boy sat on the dirty pavement and undid the gift wrapping, pulling out the LEGO box. Her eyes widened in heart-wrenching disbelief. </p><p>Xiao Zhan said, a little frantic, “What do you mean? I can call right now, or, or grab some food from the cafe just down the street, or even just some snacks first to tide her over—” </p><p>“Do you want to open the box?” the boy asked. </p><p>Xiao Zhan fell silent as the boy held the box out to the girl. Slowly, cautiously, the girl reached out both hands to hold the box. Her hands were dirty with scrapes and wounds. She stared at the box like if she looked away for a second, it would disappear. </p><p>“It’s yours,” the boy said. “We can build it here, if you want. Do you want that?” </p><p>She looked at the boy. Her cheeks had smudges of dirt on them, streaked through with dried tears. She nodded and opened the box. </p><p>Xiao Zhan watched. They took out the bags of LEGO pieces and opened them, sounds of ripping plastic filling the small space. The boy closed the box and used it as a table, LEGO pieces littered on the pavement like flowers. Piece by piece, they put the base together, the girl clumsy, the boy intent. </p><p>“Do you know the best way to build a LEGO set, ge?” the boy asked. </p><p>Xiao Zhan sat down slowly, uncaring that the seat of his jeans would be ruined. He felt like he was beginning to understand, even if he couldn’t yet see the whole picture. </p><p>“No,” he said. </p><p>“You build the base first and work upwards. For animals, the fun parts are the head and the little details like their claws and ears and tail, so kids always want to do them first. But without the base we won’t get there.” It was a set for children; the pieces were relatively large and easy to maneuver. Already Xiao Zhan could see the legs of the lion forming. The girl wasn’t smiling, but her entire body was relaxed. She pushed a piece into place with a crisp click. </p><p>“Like a jigsaw puzzle. You build the outer frame first, then fill in the details,” Xiao Zhan murmured. </p><p>“Yeah, that’s right. Piece by piece with patience. And before you know it, you’ll be done, and it’ll be the best feeling in the world,” the boy said. “No use in thinking too much when the pieces are scattered. So just start.” </p><p>The minutes ticked by. In the distance there was the sound of traffic and the chatter of the crowd. Click, click, click: the lion’s underbelly, a little distended, its back a little too curved. Click, click, click: the lion’s front leg extended a little too far ahead. Click, click, click: the lion’s mouth opened in a roar, eyes too close together. A creature brought to life by a boy and an abandoned little girl. </p><p>“But the fun is...you’ll always create it your own way,” the boy said with pride. </p><p>He looked at the girl. She gazed back at him. Crawling past the space that separated them, she threw herself into his lap, face tucked against his neck. The boy cradled her and stood up. </p><p>“You should go, ge,” he said. </p><p>Xiao Zhan stood up too. He thought he already knew the answer, but still he had to ask, “Where are you bringing her?” </p><p>“Home,” the boy said. “She’s been lost for too long.” </p><p>“What about her lion?” He picked up the figure by the base carefully, lion standing weird and proud and beautiful. “She should bring it with her.” </p><p>“She can’t,” the boy said. “Take it as a gift. As thanks.” </p><p>“For what? I didn’t do anything,” Xiao Zhan whispered. </p><p>“For creating something beautiful.” </p><p>His heart was aching, every breath another twist to his chest. He said, “But I haven’t.” </p><p>“Then you will,” the boy said. He grinned. “You were born to create beautiful things, ge.”</p><p>He turned and began walking towards the other end of the alleyway, the child secure in his arms. Xiao Zhan tried to blink the blurriness in his eyes away, loathe to miss even a single instant. </p><p>But between one blink and the next, the alley was empty except for him and the little lion. </p><p>.</p><p>Though it was a splurge, considering he wouldn’t have a steady income for a while, when the leaves were crisp yellow and red Xiao Zhan bought a ticket for a concert. The band’s guitarist had died three years ago. After years of no news, the tribute concert had come as a surprise. </p><p>He had friends he could have gone to the concert with. On a whim, like it was the pride of an OG fan, he decided to go alone, to both mourn and celebrate. </p><p>It wasn’t a large venue; the band belonged to the indie scene. To Xiao Zhan, who had grown up on a diet of mainstream ballads and pop songs, they had been a breath of fresh air, an accompaniment to his university years of exploration. The air in the cosy arena was thick with nostalgia. Already, some fans were crying. </p><p>Xiao Zhan did not notice the boy at first, not until the opening notes of the band’s first single filled the arena and the fans went wild, cheering and crying and waving their arms, and Xiao Zhan saw the one still silhouette in the crowd. The dim stage lights went fully dark—the music rose to a crescendo, rivalled only by the fans’ fervour—</p><p>As the stage lit up in a burst of light, the band members on stage singing and playing their hearts out and perhaps crying a little too, Xiao Zhan stared at the boy. The boy who was today in full black, light glinting off his earrings and necklaces, hair styled, makeup fierce. The boy who looked like he, too, belonged on that stage. </p><p>The boy looked at him. His smile felt different today: still honest, but with something awfully sad about it. His lips formed around a word: </p><p><em> Ge </em> </p><p>Without thinking, without knowing how he had pushed through the screaming crowd, Xiao Zhan was suddenly in front of him. The cheers and cries rang in his ears. On stage, the lead singer’s high note quivered, choked with tears. The boy continued smiling at him. </p><p>“Hey,” he said. </p><p>“Hi,” Xiao Zhan said. He had no idea if the boy could hear him. He must have, since his smile widened. Xiao Zhan continued, “This isn’t the type of place to get lost in.” </p><p>“Yeah,” the boy agreed. “I—”</p><p>“Just found yourself here?”</p><p>The boy blinked at him. He laughed, showing teeth. Xiao Zhan laughed too, a little helpless, a lot fond. </p><p>The first song, their intro, winded down to an end. The cries of the fans went on for at least a minute, perhaps two. Xiao Zhan did not look away from the boy, willing to be caught in the intensity of his gaze. </p><p>“The good thing is...I know what to do this time. I don’t need to borrow any of your money,” the boy said. </p><p>“Oh. That—that doesn’t mean you can skimp out of treating me to a meal. Several meals, in fact,” Xiao Zhan added hurriedly. </p><p>“Yeah, can’t do that,” the boy said, smile soft, voice even softer. He sounded like he might fade away any time, like that day in the alley—like a wisp of heat haze. </p><p>Xiao Zhan grabbed his hand. It was so much colder than the autumn weather warranted. “Who—” he said, then was unable to continue. </p><p>The boy studied him before he looked towards the stage, where the band was beginning a slow song. <em> 52 hertz</em>. Xiao Zhan knew the lyrics, every turn in the tune. He saw himself lying in his tiny apartment, petrified at the enormity of beginning his own design studio. He saw himself the day he sat in front of his laptop for an hour before he sent the application to the talent-scouting programme. </p><p>He saw an empty alley. </p><p>The guitarist had written this song. The very same one whom the boy was looking at now, standing in the shadow of the stage wings, gazing at his bandmates who had arranged this tribute to him, for him. </p><p>“Don’t,” Xiao Zhan whispered, tightening his grip on the boy’s hand. He didn’t know if he was crying for the guitarist, for the band, or for the boy. He didn’t know if he was crying at the sudden weight of realisation. </p><p>“I have to,” the boy said quietly. </p><p>“No. Give him...give them some time,” Xiao Zhan pleaded. </p><p>The boy blinked, looking surprised. “Oh,” he said, “I was going to bring him home only after the concert. After his wish is fulfilled.” He lifted his other hand to Xiao Zhan’s cheek, cold fingers brushing through the wet streaks. “Don’t cry, ge. Please. Please don’t cry,” he said, sounding helpless. </p><p>Xiao Zhan sobbed. He leaned his cheek into the boy’s hand. He wanted to stop crying. They had only an hour, maybe an hour and a half, before the boy would disappear once again. He couldn’t waste time like this. </p><p>
  <em> Who are you?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What are you?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why did this happen to you?  </em>
</p><p>He wanted to ask so much. He wanted to clutch the boy’s hands until they warmed under his touch. </p><p>“Will you tell me your story?” he said. </p><p>The song continued, aching and tender. The boy kept his hand cupped around Xiao Zhan’s cheek, rubbing the tears away, thumb touching briefly under his lip. When he spoke his voice was low, a dream-like quality to it. </p><p>“I was training to be like them too. Not exactly the same: I wanted to dance. I wanted a stage I could dance on. So I was sent to train overseas since...I don’t remember when. I was young then, a kid. And I guess I was good enough to be put in a boy group.” The boy paused. He smiled. “It was a good group. We worked really hard. We would dance and sing from nine in the morning till it was past midnight, and still we wouldn’t stop. We wanted to be the best of the best. What’s the point in doing something if you’re not going to be the best at it?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan laughed, hoarse. He felt and sounded ugly, though the boy cradled his face like he was the sun, like the rarest treasure. </p><p>“We managed to debut. And it was good, it was really good for a while. I think we were well-liked enough. There were many who wanted our signatures! Can you imagine that, ge? Ah...mine was pretty ugly though,” he added, rueful. </p><p>“You need to practise then,” Xiao Zhan scolded. </p><p>“I do,” the boy agreed. He sighed and continued, quieter, “But there were those who hated us too. Maybe they were jealous, I don’t know. Maybe they thought we sucked. Can’t focus on that though, right? We could only try to do better and better.” </p><p>The boy fell silent. There was a pause in the songs as the band addressed the crowd, earnest and warm. They said <em> hello </em> and <em> long time no see</em>. They grinned at familiar faces. They laughed as they recalled their first performance in this very same arena and where they messed up. The fans cheered and yelled and cried and waved their glow sticks. Xiao Zhan rubbed the hand caught in his, wishing it would leech off his warmth. </p><p>“And then?” he asked, gentle as a lullaby. </p><p>“...I don’t remember lots of things, ge,” the boy said. He sounded so small. “I think there was an accident. I feel like I floated in and out for the longest time, and then it was quiet and dark. I don’t like the dark. Don’t much like the quiet either. Then one day I opened my eyes and I was holding a skateboard in the city, and then you talked to me. I was...happy. It was warm then. But in between I would have to return to the dark, quiet place.” </p><p>Xiao Zhan sucked in a slow breath. It was a physical impossibility to speak. It hurt to even breathe. He somehow forced out the words, “Your body is…?” </p><p>The boy fell silent for a long while. The band began their next song, <em> Sunflowers</em>. The crowd swayed to the tune, a blur around them. </p><p>“Alive, I think,” the boy said. “You’re able to touch me. If I were—” Xiao Zhan’s hands spasmed around his. The boy paused before continuing lightly, “It’s a strange place to be, not really alive and not really...it means I can see those who wandered away. Those who got lost. I guess I thought maybe if I brought peace to them, I would have paid my penance. Maybe I would wake up then.” </p><p>Fury surged through Xiao Zhan, sudden and wild. He snarled, “You did nothing wrong, you hear me? There is no penance to pay. You don’t deserve this. You should be dancing on a stage, under the stars. You should be dancing whatever the hell you want, building a LEGO set that is all yours, racing ahead and leaving us all in the dust, leaping into the sky.” As he spoke the tears turned into angry ones, spilling helplessly. </p><p>The boy brushed the tears away with his thumb. “But I don’t know how else to wake up,” he confessed. </p><p>“I don’t care. You’re gonna have to try harder. You wanted to be the best at whatever you do, right? Then you’re going to have to be the best at waking up. And then you’re just going to have to be the best the world has ever seen.” </p><p>The boy’s eyes widened and he let out a startled laugh. “You’re really bossy, ge. Such a bully. Bullying me just ‘cos you’re six years older.” </p><p>“I have a bad temper too,” Xiao Zhan warned. “If you’re going to continue to spout rubbish like penance and shit, you won’t like it.” </p><p>“What will you do?” the boy challenged. </p><p>Xiao Zhan bared his teeth. “Don’t test me. You already owe me thirty eight meals.” </p><p>The boy smiled. He rubbed away the wetness on Xiao Zhan’s cheeks. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be the best at waking up. And then I’ll be the best at buying you food.” </p><p>Xiao Zhan clutched the boy’s hand so tight his own went bloodless. He had to. He had no confidence that he wouldn’t continue crying if he didn’t, after all the trouble the boy had gone to to dry his tears. The boy let him hold his hand, swaying with him to the beat of the song. And he let Xiao Zhan continue holding his hand for the next song, and the next, and the next one too, gaze earnest and respectful as he watched the tribute concert draw to its finale, the last note dissipating into the air. </p><p>The band bowed deeply. The cries of the crowd were hoarse as the members left with tear tracks on their cheeks. While the cries went on the house lights lit up, that liminal space between audience seats and performer stage disappearing. The night was over. </p><p>“I have to go, ge,” the boy said.</p><p>“No,” Xiao Zhan said. </p><p>“I have to, or I can’t have a go at waking up. And he needs to go home.” </p><p>“Then...then tell me your name,” Xiao Zhan begged. </p><p>The boy parted his lips. But he looked stricken and sad again, and he whispered, “I don’t think I remember. It’s been such a long time since someone called my name.” He shook his head and resumed with a smile, “But I think I can remember yours, if you’ll tell me.” </p><p>“Cheeky brat. Always with these unfair exchanges,” Xiao Zhan said. He sighed. “I’ll find out, then. I’ll remember it for you. But you’ve got to wake up. Deal?” </p><p>“Deal,” the boy said. He tilted his head to the side, eyes glimmering in the light. </p><p>Xiao Zhan leaned forward and murmured into the boy’s ear. When he drew back, the boy was grinning, eyes squished from the force of it. He gently extracted his hand from Xiao Zhan’s hold. </p><p>The crowd moved around him. Xiao Zhan stood still, watching the boy walk onto the stage, unseen and unheard and unnoticed by anyone other than himself. Under the stage lights the boy was powerful, fierce. At the entrance to the wings, he turned and mouthed, </p><p>
  <em> See you, Zhan-ge. </em>
</p><p>Xiao Zhan was the last one out of the arena. His face was cold. His eyes hurt. He felt empty and cleansed all at once. The stars were hazy, indiscernible in the light pollution from the city, but he thought, if he looked carefully enough, that one was shining particularly bright. </p><p>.</p><p>In the long, cold winter nights, as Xiao Zhan sang and sweated and danced until he dropped a toenail, he talked more than he had ever talked in his life. It was fine though. Nobody knew he was doing all this talking, except the one who mattered most. The news articles, painstakingly translated from a foreign language, were imprinted in his mind, their headlines horrifying, contents even more so. But from them he had carefully extracted a gem and carried it with him. </p><p><em> Yibo, I truly suck at dancing</em>, he said. <em> You had better not laugh at me when we see each other again. Though I guess you’ll have the right to do so.  </em></p><p>The youngest in their group giggled at the little lion Xiao Zhan kept by his bedside. “I didn’t know you like LEGOs, Zhan-ge!” he said. </p><p>“I don’t particularly,” Xiao Zhan said. He inspected the lion for dust and placed it back on the stand. “It’s a gift. A reminder.” </p><p>“A reminder?” the kid asked. </p><p>Xiao Zhan smiled. “To create something beautiful.” </p><p>They debuted in the following year. Xiao Zhan performed a number of truly embarrassing dances. He sang his heart out and enjoyed every single moment of it. The first time a fan asked for his signature, he said, <em> I see what you mean, Yibo. There’s something really weird about this. Flattering, but weird. </em> People took photos of him in the airports. People took photos of him whenever he was in a public space. People took photos of him eating. <em> Invasive too, </em> he complained. </p><p>It was good, though. It was really good for a while. Piece by piece, he had set up the frame, the base. There were moments of true beauty. There were moments it fell flat, when he felt more like a puppet than a person, playing weird variety show games and answering weirder questions. </p><p>
  <em> Yibo, they will not stop asking what type of girl I like.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What am I supposed to say when they ask the secret to my airport style? Did they ask you about yours, Yibo?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s alarming how much hate people have, Yibo. I would like to believe there is more love than hate.  </em>
</p><p>He did not see the boy that year. He had not seen him since the tribute concert. But it was fine. It meant the boy was not lost somewhere. It meant he was waking up, or had woken up. </p><p>The year after that, they went on one of the country’s most famous variety shows. The hosts were lovely and funny. They still had to play games, but the hosts were earnest about promoting them. It seemed they hadn’t found their new brother though; their call for applicants had created a stir in the industry, surely they would have found someone by now. Xiao Zhan made a polite remark to the main host as they said their goodbyes, wishing them success in finding a new brother. </p><p>“Ah, that’s kind of you! But we already have,” the man said. He clapped Xiao Zhan warmly on the back. </p><p>“Oh! I’m glad to hear that,” Xiao Zhan said with a smile. </p><p>“We had to insist the young man take some more time for himself before he joined the family,” the man said. His eyes twinkled. “We keep him updated though. He was excited about this episode.” Beckoning Xiao Zhan closer, the man murmured, “You have a fan, Xiao Zhan. He said he is looking forward to seeing you later.” </p><p>“Oh. That’s...oh.” </p><p>He bowed. He said his thanks again and made his exit with his group. </p><p>They chattered all the way to their pickup van, high on the success of having been on one of the country’s most loved shows. In the back seat, Xiao Zhan smiled and joked with them when the younger members turned to him, seeking his opinion. In the company building they sat through a debriefing. He nodded and listened and looked through the details of their next event and the practice schedules. </p><p>He bade everyone goodnight. The company wasn’t best pleased with him ever since he refused to attend private drinking parties with some powerful people, so he booked a taxi and went home. He stared at the passing streetlamps. He lost count after eighty five. </p><p>At home, in the quiet, in the dark, he sat on the bed. He picked up the little lion. </p><p>Xiao Zhan held it to his chest and did not move for a long time. </p><p>.</p><p>In that transitional moment when the sun was warm and the breeze was cool, in the city that housed the most famous historical town used in all period dramas, Xiao Zhan began his job as his first male lead role. With a low budget and a cast of mostly newbie actors, they were going to try and pull off a story of incredible loss and even more incredible love. </p><p>The day of the group script reading, where the cast would meet each other for the first time, Xiao Zhan was so nervous he thought he might throw up. It was just as well that he hadn’t risked breakfast. </p><p>“Did they ever decide on the other male lead?” he asked. </p><p>“I think he’s coming today too, so they must have,” his assistant said. </p><p>Xiao Zhan nodded. He spun his pen and stared at the script, not seeing anything more than orange highlights. The gathering time was ten thirty, and he had made the mistake of arriving half an hour early to work himself into a bundle of nerves. </p><p>It wasn’t even his first acting role. It wasn’t even guaranteed that this would be able to air. But it felt momentous, somehow. </p><p>He sighed and put down his pen. “I’m going for a walk,” he told his assistant. </p><p>There was relative peace around this building used for meetings and conferences. Fans and tourists had no interest being here when the chances of glimpsing their favourite actor was exponentially higher in the historical town. He paced the side with the best view of the sky and eventually leaned against the wall, head tilted back. </p><p>Breathe in, breathe out. Envision building a base, piece by piece. The start of something beautiful. </p><p>There were faint sounds from the parking lot. Xiao Zhan glanced at his watch: ten-oh-five, who was the other early bird? He straightened his posture and began smiling, prepared to greet his fellow cast member. </p><p>In the third spring since he met the boy, in that time when the air was ripe with possibilities, as footsteps rounded the building and stopped, Xiao Zhan’s smile froze. The widened eyes before him were warm, and bright, and they belonged to a boy Xiao Zhan had been missing for two years and five months, the one whose name he had promised to remember.</p><p>“Wang-laoshi?” somebody said, voice as though from a distance. </p><p>The boy—<em>Wang Yibo</em>—did not reply. He took a careful step, another, and one more that would bring him in front of Xiao Zhan. Though Xiao Zhan could not move—could not even be sure if he could breathe—he desperately drank in the sight. </p><p>He was pale. His hair was a little tousled. He could still use some fattening up. </p><p>His smile was the most beautiful thing Xiao Zhan had ever seen. </p><p>“Hi,” Xiao Zhan whispered. </p><p>“Hey,” Yibo said. “Hey, Zhan-ge.”</p><p>He stared at Xiao Zhan like he would disappear if he took his eyes off him. Xiao Zhan knew, because he was doing the same. The silence stretched, not uncomfortable. </p><p>The assistant cleared his throat and said, “I’ll just...go then. Yes. Right.” He scurried away. </p><p>Now it was truly just the two of them, the sounds of the city distant enough that Xiao Zhan was aware of their breaths synchronising. Yibo looked utterly content to not say a word. But they had twenty three minutes left and what felt like a lifetime to catch up on. </p><p>Xiao Zhan said, “You sure took your time.” </p><p>Yibo huffed, an amused sound. “I woke up pretty quick, actually. But I had to find my own way after that. Nobody booked a taxi for me.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so it’s my fault now?”</p><p>“Totally. I told you, right? I would have still been lost if you didn’t show the way.” Yibo grinned, smile crooked. “So now you owe me.” </p><p>“You’ve forgotten the thirty eight treats you owe me, hmm?” </p><p>“This and that are two different things,” Yibo argued. “You still owe me.” </p><p>Xiao Zhan sighed. “Cheeky brat.” </p><p>In the lull, he lifted a hand. He hesitated. He watched the look in Yibo’s eyes morph into understanding. Even so, his breath came sharp when Yibo caught his hand and brought it to his cheek, nuzzling like a puppy. The skin of his cheek, his palm—it was warm. He was unbearably warm. </p><p>Xiao Zhan made a choked sound. “Yibo. Yibo, <em> Yibo</em>.” </p><p>“Zhan-ge, I’m here. I’m <em> here</em>,” Yibo said. His eyes were earnest and clear. His voice was deeper, but still with the sweet cadence of the boy who had leapt into the sky. </p><p>Xiao Zhan no longer knew if he was laughing or crying. But it was fine, since Yibo was doing the same, his hiccuppy laughter with a watery quality to it. Yibo cupped his other hand around Xiao Zhan’s cheek and brushed the tears away. They were strong hands, no longer with the frailty that had once sent a jolt of unease through Xiao Zhan. </p><p>“How about it, Zhan-ge?” Yibo asked. </p><p>“Hmm?” </p><p>Yibo smiled and pressed their foreheads together. “This time, how about we create something beautiful together?” </p><p>Xiao Zhan laughed. He leaned into the warm press of Yibo's skin. “We’re playing with pretty large pieces.” </p><p>“Oh, that’s fine,” Yibo said. “After all, what’s the point in doing something if we’re not going to be the best at it?” </p><p>Against this blue sky, these white clouds, washed in the morning light and the scent of new beginnings—the boy who had shown him the way smiled, vibrantly, wholly alive. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>May 2021 bring us all joy.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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